


all her will to compromise

by jdphoenix



Series: falling into place [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s01e15 Yes Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: Ward came looking for Skye.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Grant Ward
Series: falling into place [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645258
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	all her will to compromise

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a potential flashback scene to use in my fic 'puzzle pieces' but wound up not having a place for it and since it's pretty well-contained on its own I figured I'd post it here. If you haven't read that fic and have any interest in it at all, I'd recommend reading it first as, even though this takes place before it chronologically, it definitely spoils it.
> 
> Title from VAST's "pretty when you cry."

Jemma’s just finishing her inventory of the medpod’s supplies when a great shadow all at once darkens the doorway. She gives a little start and curses.

“ _Ward!_ What have we said about sneaking up on people?” Specialists. All that time at Ops, spent learning how to sneak about and be covert, they never stop to consider perhaps there are occasions one might not want to be quite so frightening.

“Sorry,” he says. As always, he doesn’t sound the least apologetic. He takes in every corner of the pod, idly tapping one fist against the door frame as he does so. “Where is everyone?” By everyone, he plainly means Skye.

“Out. Coulson is in some sort of meeting above any of our clearances. May’s still insisting the van needs a tune up and has gone to harangue the Cube’s mechanics over it. And Skye is finally free of bed rest so she’s kidnapped Fitz on an adventure.”

He doesn’t appear disappointed. If anything he looks mildly amused. “Not you?”

She shakes her head while she slides the last drawer closed, hiding away a small oxygen tank. “There’s too much to do here and-” Truth be told, Skye wouldn’t have had much fun had she come along. “I would have worried too much. Better I stay here where I can pretend she’s walking slowly and taking lots of breaks to rest and not scratching at her scars.”

Not wanting to dwell on those fears any longer, she pastes on a smile and makes to exit, only to have Ward catch her arm before she can squeeze her way past him.

“She’s fine,” he says in that low, reassuring tone he does so well. “You wouldn’t have cleared her if you didn’t think she was. You saved her life, now you’ve gotta let her live it.”

“I hardly saved her life. It was the GH-325 that did that and we _still_ don’t know what was in it. For all we know there might be risk of infection or Skye might have a preexisting condition which will react poorly with it or there might still be side effects to come-”

Ward’s hand tightens around her arm, cutting her off. He doesn’t seem to notice he’s done it though and she’s not about to hold it against him when his far off expression clearly says she was frightening him.

“Is there really that much of a risk? Coulson took this stuff and he’s fine.” Oh, now he has that sad little wrinkle between his eyebrows, the one that means he’s worried for a member of the team.

“Probably not,” she admits, wanting to ease his fears. “As you said, Coulson is fine and Skye’s had weeks to heal. If she was going to take a turn, I imagine it would have happened by now. But that’s why I want to investigate the GH-325 more thoroughly and why it’s so frustrating that Coulson won’t allow me to do so.”

“He won’t?”

“He even made sure I couldn’t go into the Cube’s labs.”

Ward pulls back with an almost comical expression. “The Cube _is_ labs. They practically don’t even have an Ops division.”

Which reminds her… “I know he has his reasons—he always does—it’s just frustrating is all.” She aims for a bright smile. “But what about you? How was your physical?”

Ward’s expression sours and his hand, which she didn’t even notice still on her arm, falls away.

“That bad?” she asks with sympathy. She knows from first-hand experience Ward hates any kind of medical visit, even if just to get an ice pack. Having to see a strange, impersonal medic—and for this of all things—must have been incredibly uncomfortable. Not for the first time she’s sorry she couldn’t have done it herself, but in this case he needed a professional.

“Clean bill of health,” he says, that training of his coming into play and making him appear unaffected.

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Could’ve done without the reason.”

Yes, she imagines so. Being raped by an alien—and brainwashed into enjoying it and even welcoming it, no less—is one of the worst causes for a visit to medical Jemma can think of.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?” It seemed a lame offer the first time she made it several days ago and that hasn’t changed.

“Nah. This is my problem.”

The first time she asked, he gave her a pained _no_ and that was final. That he just indicated he might need anything at all is a massive step forward.

“What is? Perhaps I could help-”

He laughs and steps back into the hall to rest his shoulders against the side of the medpod.

“-or one of the others?” she suggests, following after him.

“It’s- No. Definitely no.”

She gives him her sternest doctor face. “Agent Ward. If you are in medical distress, you know you should inform your team’s medical officer.”

She can see him thinking it over, considering whether or not to tell her, and thus sees the mischievous glint in his eye when he decides he will.

“I need to have sex.”

Being a genius, it isn’t very often that Jemma’s brain simply freezes mid-thought. Even during the most shocking of circumstances, she often maintains a running analysis in the back of her mind of the unfolding events. So it certainly says a lot that her thoughts skitter to a halt now.

Ward bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s just your face.”

She schools it into a scowl. “That was _not_ the doctor’s prescription.”

“No,” he admits, wiping at his eye. “But it is mine.” He sobers. “You know all specialists go through honeypot training?”

“Really? You? With the ninetieth percentile aesthetic score? I’m shocked.”

“I’m a ninety-two,” he deadpans. “Anyway, just ‘cause I got the training doesn’t mean I like to use it. With the risk of any mission being the last, it just always seemed wrong, you know? Having a mark—someone, at best, I didn’t even have a genuine relationship with and, at worse, I didn’t have any positive feelings for at all—be the last person I slept with. It’s just always been one of those things, my own little rule for me.”

She reaches out, wanting to put her hand on his shoulder, but braces it on the door frame instead. “That makes perfect sense.” She can’t imagine having to sleep with someone for a cover. The idea of that kind of connection with someone reduced to nothing more than a _mission_ is unnerving.

He rests his head against the wall. “So that’s _my_ prescription. Find someone to sleep with who doesn’t make me want to set myself on fire.”

“Ward.” Now Jemma does touch his shoulder. She knows it was hard for him, what happened with Lorelei, can’t imagine how hard. But to hear him say it like that…

This is why he came here. He was looking for Skye, hoping that she might care for him as he so obviously cares for her and would be willing to do this for him.

He looks down at her hand on his arm, his gaze growing dark and heavy before his eyes find hers. His fingers brush her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear and lingering there. The air around them seems to grow warm and she becomes preternaturally aware of the heat of his skin bleeding through his t-shirt to her palm. She should move away, give him space, but the longer the moment drags out the more she can’t help but think of what would happen if Ward had only come here looking for her instead. The way he’s staring, she can almost pretend…

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning away, his eyes finding a spot on the ceiling. She steps back, dropping her hand as if burned. “That was- that was way out of line. I am so sorry, Simmons.”

“It’s all right. I- I understand. I wouldn’t have minded.”

She slaps her hand over her mouth, horrified that the words actually found their way out.

“You- Really?” He moves to stand over her, his hand slowly reaching for her hip. She could easily pull away, flee for the ladder or escape into the maze of cargo containers. But she doesn’t and when his fingers brush her hip and his thumb slides up beneath the edge of her sweater, it’s electric. “I didn’t think I was your type.”

Now she laughs. Not her type? Jemma can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t consider Ward their type.

She knows she should ask about Skye, remind him that it’s her he cares for her and her he came here looking for. But he only needs sex, just someone to erase the memory of Lorelei. Would it be so wrong to indulge her girlish fantasies and have him just once, if it meant giving him that relief?

When her body meets his and his lips close over hers, she decides she doesn’t really care about the answer.


End file.
